


These Little Moments

by ylissianknights



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: Crushes, Family Bonding, Gen, exploring neimi/colm's backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 05:23:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4948303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ylissianknights/pseuds/ylissianknights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Then she’ll thank the Gods for those little moments, when nothing else mattered except momentary happiness. Those memories will sustain her, and save her."</p><p>The night before the village Lark was destroyed, Neimi enjoys a meal with her family. Includes personal headcanons about her past and her relationship with Colm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Little Moments

 ♪♫♪

Neimi’s mother died when she was too young to appreciate her. Her father died before her mother even knew she was pregnant with his child. All she remembered of her parents was a picture her grandfather kept in a place of honor on the shelf above the fireplace. Her mother had been beautiful, all soft features with lightly browned hair falling down her shoulders in waves. Her pink eyes glittered with benevolence, and Neimi remembers how warm her presence had been. All the memories of her mother were filled with warmth and love. Then there was her father. He looked like a carefree man, and he had hair just a few shades darker than Neimi’s own purplish-pink. His hair was cut short with a large wisp of bangs covering the left side of his face. Scars covered his visible skin. He’d been a mercenary once upon a time, and died protecting Lark, the village, from a bandit attack.

“Little dove.” The young girl jumped and quickly turned to look at her grandfather. Zethla was a large man who only appeared small because of his old age. His hair was snow white and a labyrinth of wrinkles mapped his face. Yet his eyes still held the sparkle of youth in them. He nodded his head towards the door he’d emerged from. “The turkey is ready, Neimi, come and eat with us.” She smiled and eagerly nodded.

Earlier that morning, seized by a fit of restlessness, Neimi had found herself slinking around in the plains and forest surrounding Lark, her home away from home. Her bow in hand, she’d found a flock of wild turkey and immediately felled the closest one she could get to. It’d be a welcome feast to celebrate the coming of the Magvel autumn. She’d slung the turkey over her shoulder and walked home with it like that, taking pride in the way everyone watched with hungry wonder at her catch. It was for her family, though, and nothing could make her feel more amazing than the look of pride in Zethla’s eyes when she presented it to him.

Neimi walked into the dining area to see Colm already sitting at the table. She smiled at the older boy. When they were both much younger, around eight or nine years old, Colm’s family moved to Lark from a city near the ocean. Everyone steered clear of him and his glares and harsh attitude. He also earned a reputation as a pickpocket and thief fairly quickly. A few weeks after he moved there, he found out about the other children and their attacks on the significantly more helpless Neimi. He immediately started stepping in and this endeared him in the archer’s eyes. A year or so ago he pulled a stunt with his parents’ wealthy landlord and they ended up kicking him out on the streets. By then he and Neimi were close friends, and one teary eyed look from Neimi had Zethla agreeing to let the blue haired thief stay with them.

Now Colm reclined on one of the old wooden chairs, arms behind his head and a look of contentment on his face. When he heard Neimi enter the room he cracked an eye open and the corner of his mouth lifted up a bit. Neimi smiled back at him before taking the seat beside him. He gently nudged her leg with his foot and a full smile spread across his face. “Thanks for the fresh turkey.” He told her, one of the rare times he didn’t add an insult or ‘crybaby’ to the end. Neimi decided to enjoy it.

“Only the best for my family.” She replied, nudging his leg with her own foot. A faint blush spread against his cheeks and his smile turned bashful. For all his intimidation and harshness, Colm was actually quite sweet and sensitive. He used an adopted facade to hide it, though. From time to time, Neimi will find random items that she’d been talking about wanting. She’ll smile when she finds it, because she knew it was Colm’s doing. He might insult her regularly, but he also liked doting on her, and those little gifts were his own special way of saying he really did care.

The scent of turkey flooded into the room and Neimi turned towards the source eagerly. Zethla carried a plate with the cooked turkey seated in the middle of it with an assortment of vegetables situated around it. He placed it carefully in the middle of the table and began to carve it using one of their good knives.

“The first choice of meat goes to Neimi, the skilled hunter who caught this wondrous meal for us.” The older man announced, his smile full of pride. The purple headed girl nearly started bouncing in her seat. Zethla carefully used a fork and the knife to get a choice slice of meat from the bird and slide it onto Neimi’s plate. After that he served Colm and then himself. Neimi helped herself to the vegetables and once everyone had the food they wanted, Colm was the one who cleared his throat.

“Pre-dinner prayer?” Colm offered at Zethla’s raised eyebrow. The old man smiled at him.

“It looks like our resident thief is finally learning some manners.” He commented and the blue haired teen stuck his tongue out. Neimi huffed in amusement and then held her hands out to the other two. Zethla took her hand firmly, and Colm took it gently. “Would you like to lead us tonight, Colm?”

“Sure. Dear Gods, thank you for blessing us with this meal, and for Neimi who caught it for us. Blessed be the Gods, for we live because of their grace and goodwill. Amen.” Colm recited, and Neimi blushed slightly at his thanking her. Both Neimi and Zethla echoed with their own ‘amen’ and then they released each other’s hands.

“You may now eat.” Zethla announced, and immediately Colm attacked his plate of food like he hadn’t eaten all day. Zethla commented on it and Neimi laughed at the faux-indignant look that settled on his face and he retorted with something about Zethla’s white hairs.

For dessert, Colm revealed a box of chocolates he’d scavenged and they split them up among the three of them. Zethla only took a few, playing his old age card, and retired to his room. Neimi and Colm took what was left in the box and took it outside. Colm laid a blanket on the ground and brought some old pillows out and the two of them laid back and ate the chocolates while looking at the stars. Because of the descending autumn, Colm had brought an extra blanket and they were curled up beneath it.

“Thanks again for the turkey.” Colm told her in a quiet voice, eyes still on the stars. Out of all the forces in the world, thinking of the stars and their significance was the only thing to make Colm feel humble. Neimi knew it, he acted differently under the night sky. More at peace.

“Thanks for the chocolate.” Neimi replied simply, looking at him from the corner of her eyes. He looked more and more like a man everyday, and so different from when she first met him. He’d grown out his hair, which was tied in a simple ponytail at the nape of his neck, and his ears were adorned with an array of faux-gold jewelry. His jawline was stronger, more defined, and his eyes were darker, containing more wisdom than they had once-upon-a-time.

“Time seems to travel so fast.” He commented randomly. Neimi arched an eyebrow.

“What makes you say that?”

“It seems like just yesterday I saw you getting bullied outside of school. You were babbling and crying as they made fun of you, which you still do now, but you were so helpless. That bow makes you a lot less helpless, but you still cry a lot. Anyway, it seems like just yesterday that happened. Now, in one or two more years, we’ll be starting our own families and moving away.” He got silent. “I don’t want to leave.”

Neimi knew what he meant. She’d found her own sort of peace in the house she shared with him and her grandfather. Her home. She didn’t allow herself to think of the future. A future without Zethla.

A future without Colm.

“I don’t want to leave either.” She murmured after a few moments, and then she reached out and took Colm’s hand in hers. “I won’t leave if you don’t.” She offered.

He smiled. “I guess I could keep watch over you a bit longer. Gotta keep the crybaby from hurting herself.” But he squeezed her hand, though she already knew he didn’t mean what he said even a little bit.

Neimi turned her head to look back at the sky and then closed her eyes.

The next day, as she watched her village burn and the flames take away her home, she’ll cry into Colm’s chest as he holds her hard enough to bruise and think about their last perfect night. And she’ll cry even more as Colm starts to cry and they’ll both mourn the loss together.

Then she’ll thank the Gods for those little moments, when nothing else mattered except momentary happiness. Those memories will sustain her, and save her.

♪♫♪

**Author's Note:**

> After filling out an application for a fire emblem roleplay group for Neimi, I got inspired to write something about her. I decided to do the night before Lark was destroyed.
> 
> Neimi x Colm was my first fire emblem otp, and I feel the writers didn't do Neimi a lot of justice. In their supports Neimi seems extremely affected by Colm's harshness when if they were childhood friends she totally would be able to see through his bs and accept that was just how he showed his emotions. Also she stills cries a lot, but because of good reasons and not for the simplest things.
> 
> -Side eyes fire emblem writers- I got 99 problems with fire emblem and the writers are like 90 of them


End file.
